


Home is a State of Mind

by prowlish (valkyrie_fe)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Community: tf_rare_pairing, M/M, Pre-Earth, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrie_fe/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming back from another mission is routine for Blaster now, except this time he can't keep his mind from straying to a stranger he'd met at a local bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is a State of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> For a tf_rare_pairing monthly challenge: "Missing You."

Waiting to dock while on one of the huge, clunking transport ships was quite possibly the most dull thing about coming home from a mission. The thought made Blaster's lips twitch into a smile, even if he was in a personal darkness with his optics offlined; he was unaware if any mechs paused to wonder at the sudden expression flashing over his otherwise docile features, to perhaps cast a frown or other suspicious glance his way. He was merely amused at how quickly he'd adjusted to life on the particular base he'd been assigned to, however. He was already thinking of it as "home."

Then again, he mused, any friendly territory was more home than behind the enemy lines from which they'd just come. His expression turned grim. Blaster didn't want to dwell on that, but his first thought had been correct: they were waiting through the most tedious part of the return - namely, the infinitesimal crawl through the air while approaching the appropriate hangar for docking on base. And seeing as it felt as though they weren't moving at all, it caused much more unrest and impatience than the actual trip back itself.

True, Blaster wasn't one to be as fidgety as some of the other mechs. He was always as eagar as the next mech to get off the ship and stretch cooped up limbs, but typically he could take it all in stride. But now the transport ship shuddered with the distinctive tremors of low altitude mag-plates that protested the weight they carried, and Blaster felt a prick of the anxiety he so often saw in other mechs.

He understood it in others. For many a mech, "coming home" wasn't metaphorical here - plenty of them had lived in Tyger Pax all their lives. They had family and friends they were itching to see. But though it was familiar enough for him to call "home" when they returned from behind enemy lines, Blaster had never been here before enlisting.

And he hadn't minded, really. He enjoyed the newness, enjoyed exploring the city and its people in his off-duty time... but he never felt quite the same agitated excitement before docking back at base as his fellow enlisted did. Put simply, he didn't have anyone to come home to, other than his superiors.

Yet this time, the memory of a certain mech resurfaced over and over in his processors - had been for the past decacycle or so. And it was hilarious because he was barely an acquaintence! He probably wouldn't even remember Blaster with how long he'd been gone, even if he did turn up at that bar again.

Still, he couldn't wash from his processors the image of a gentle smile on crimson faceplates, or of cool blue optics fixed on him in conversation.

And that's all it had been, really. Just a passing conversation between an off-duty soldier and a civilian, at a bar struggling to stay afloat during the turbulent times. And yet... he couldn't stop thinking about it. Even though they'd barely scratched the surface of actually knowing each other... Blaster thought it would be nice to see that smile again.

-:-

Blaster found himself at the little pub again, after the checking in and debriefing - or rather, once he was a free mech again for a joor or two. The soft twilit evening was nice. In fact, the setting was practically poetic - it was the situation that was hilarious. Or ridiculous, even.

Honestly. He didn't even know this mech's name. Without a doubt he'd be able to know the mech again if he saw him again; he couldn't easily forget the delicate sweep of the white wings that accentuated his navy frame. Wings. Wings - he'd wondered long and hard about that. From what Blaster could tell, the other mech hadn't been a flier, so those appendages really were curious.

Ah, if only he'd gotten this stranger's name. Perhaps then he could feel a little less desperate asking the other patrons about him.

Memory washed over him again. It was almost inevitable as he stepped into the bar, familiar sights, sounds, scents all rolling over his sensors.

_"I never got your name."_

_"Hmm. Nor did I get yours."_

_"So what... Wanna trade?"_

_That smile again, the little twinkling in his optics. Like he was holding back laughter. "Perhaps... next time."_

_He grinned. "There's gonna be a next time?"_

_The other really did laugh this time. A quiet, warm sound. "That, my friend, is entirely up to you."_

But he hadn't shown up again, hadn't had time after he'd been assigned on that recently finished mission. Surely he had known, though. Surely he'd thought of that possibility after seeing the Autobot brand on Blaster's chassis.

Blaster had been wandering into the room without paying much attention, and soon he realized this. The room came into sharp clarity - colors seemed brighter, loud clatter and lively chatter filled his audios. Looked to be a good night for business.

His optics searched the room and he felt his spark flare with a confused bundle of emotion when they lit upon the form of his stranger. There was no mistaking the gentle angle of those white wings. He was sitting in an almost solitary seat at the edge of the bar counter - there was one empty seat next to him, and Blaster intended to occupy it.

The element of surprise was ruined when the mech tending the bar murmured something to the blue mech, his optics on Blaster. Whatever he'd said - Blaster could make a good guess or two - with a flutter, the stranger's optics framed by lovely red plating turned on him.

He smiled. It was infectious - in fact, Blaster couldn't really stop a grin from jumping all over his own faceplates. Funny, he thought, to have been missing a stranger's smile this whole time.

Blaster slid into the unoccupied seat, leaning an elbow against the counter and arching an optic ridge. "You know, I still never got your name. S'been bugging me this whole time."

The blue mech laughed softly. Blaster was sure it was the most beautiful sound he'd heard in vorns.


End file.
